


just let me try (and I will be good to you) - an Anthonavery RPF

by honeybunchesofgoats (pearwaldorf)



Category: Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: Drunk Sex, In-Universe RPF, M/M, Metafiction, mia_ugly's Slow Show Universe, we have to go Deeper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/honeybunchesofgoats
Summary: Look. Stuff like this doesn’t happen irl, especially not for queer celebs. Except in this one case it did, and there’s no way you can’t not look back at things in that light. But it wasn’t always the case that a queer celeb couple (who met and fell in love on the set!!) could be together as openly as they are today. And this fic is an artifact of that time, and proof reality can be more ludicrous and wonderful than any writer can imagine.#i just wanna say #i've improved a lot as a writer #plz don't judge me based on something i wrote four years ago lmao
Relationships: Anthony J. Crowley/Avery Fell (Slow Show)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 100
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse





	just let me try (and I will be good to you) - an Anthonavery RPF

**Author's Note:**

> This will make absolutely no sense if you haven't read mia_ugly's gorgeous Good Omens actor AU [Slow Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395261). As always, thanks to her for letting us play in her sandbox.
> 
> Kisses to the Warlock Party House server for cheerleading.

[tumblr post]  
**honeybunchesofgoats**

> Oh my god, you guys. I was cleaning my room and among other things, I found the first handwritten draft of “Just let me try (and I will be good to you)”. It’s such a time capsule, especially considering all that’s happened in Warlock fandom, and of course irl with Avery and Anthony.
> 
> It’s super weird being in the first wave of a tiny new fandom. (I mean, it wasn’t the first fic in the tag, but it was def one of the first to get a lot of attention.) I was so scared people were going to jump on me for writing RPF, but it brought me in contact with so many people who loved not just the show and characters, but the actors that breathed air into them. It was honestly life-changing, the friends I’ve made, the things we’ve shared, the crash space I have in so many countries around the world lmao
> 
> When they made their relationship public I remember getting a handful of comments and messages alternately asking if I somehow knew and was keeping it secret or accusing me of being a tinhatter. The first presumes connections I would kill to have (do you think I’d be a PA on a shitty reality show if I had any sort of connection to Mr. Fell and/or Crowley lololol). As for the second, from the very beginning I made it clear it was fictional nonsense in the grand tradition of unverified supermarket gossip mags: based in general fact, but otherwise probably nowhere actually near the truth.
> 
> Look. Stuff like this doesn’t happen irl, especially not for queer celebs. Except in this one case it did, and there’s no way you can’t not look back at things in that light. But it wasn’t always the case that a queer celeb couple (who met and fell in love on the set!!) could be together as openly as they are today. And this fic is an artifact of that time, and proof reality can be more ludicrous and wonderful than any writer can imagine.
> 
> #i just wanna say #i've improved a lot as a writer #plz don't judge me based on something i wrote four years ago lmao

  


* * *

  


Rating: Explicit  
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply  
Category: M/M  
Fandoms: Warlock (TV) RPF, British Actor RPF  
Relationships: Anthony J. Crowley/Avery Fell  
Characters: Anthony J. Crowley, Avery Fell  
Additional Tags: Practice Kissing, Love Confessions, Blow Jobs, Light Angst, because I can't write anything without just a little bit lmao, hair petting, cuddling

## just let me try (and I will be good to you)

Avery steeled himself to knock on the door of Anthony’s trailer. They were both working late, even after a long day of filming. Anthony preferred to learn his lines in his trailer, something about less distractions than at home. Or what passed for it on location. 

And Avery? Honestly, it was very silly. He could do what he needed to do anywhere with an internet connection, so he opted to stay on set and be close to Anthony. It wasn’t like he was going to sit in the other man’s trailer and bask in his presence or whatever, but it made him feel better knowing Anthony was around, even if they weren’t interacting. 

They _were_ friends, honestly and truly, however much Anthony scoffed that he was too fucked-up or broken to have such things. They’d been coworkers, co-stars for three years and spent an awful lot of time together. Even if he wasn’t an actor, trained to observe all the little things people did but weren’t always aware of, it was impossible not to notice Anthony treated him differently.

Not that he was ever mean or rude to other people—that’s something Avery never would have stood for—but he was nicer, _softer_ to Avery in a way he never was to anybody else. There was, of course, the whole “angel” thing, but also little kindnesses that came from paying close attention. His favorite tea stocked in Anthony’s trailer, even though his was only a short walk away and Anthony preferred coffee. How a PA always had a blanket on hand when shooting outdoor scenes, because Avery got cold easily. (He sneezed like once and after that a loud tartan throw appeared on his chair. He asked Anthony about it and he said something about forest gnomes.)

So really, there was no reason he should have been nervous about this request. Except for the part where Avery was ridiculously, stupidly attracted to his co-star. 

Certainly Anthony was handsome. Rakish, he would say. Avery preferred to think of it as character, the experience of a life that showed in his face and expressions and the way he carried himself. Not all of it was pleasant, obviously (he wasn't unaware of the trainwreck Anthony made of his life previously), but there was a sort of… grace, he supposed, to dragging yourself through Hell and coming out the other side. 

If he ever told Anthony this he’d probably think he was being pitied, but the truth was Avery admired him a great deal. Underneath all the snarls and petulance he was actually quite sweet, even if he would have died rather than admit it. 

But, he scolded himself, that was neither here nor there. Focus, Avery, focus. 

He rapped smartly with his knuckles. He heard steps, and Anthony opened the door.

“Angel,” he greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Can I come in?” He would much rather be sitting down for this.

“ _Mi caravana es su caravana_ ,” Anthony said casually as he stepped aside. 

“Thank you, my dear.” Even after three years of calling him that, Anthony still startled a little bit, like he expected it to one day stop. Avery would have loved to call him more than that, but he was like a skittish horse—too much at a time and everything went back to square one. 

"So what's up?" Anthony leaned against the counter in the tiny kitchen, all casual insolence.

"Do you want a drink?" Avery blurted out, wincing inside. Real smooth, Fell, it's like you pretend for a living or something.

The other man smirked. "Your ulterior motive is revealed! You just want to drink my alcohol." 

"N-Not just!" Avery stammered. He hadn't even gotten close to his actual question and he was already babbling like a fool. "I wanted to talk to you about something. In the script."

"All right," Anthony said, turning to grab some wine glasses from the cabinet. "Is a Gran Reserva rioja okay? I had it sent special from Dublin."

"I'm sure it will be fine, my dear." At this point Avery didn't care if it was that Franzia boxed wine they had in the States, as long as it got him drunk enough to screw up his courage.

Anthony passed him a glass half full of wine, and they cheersed. It was really quite good, but then again Anthony had excellent taste in alcohol. 

(Last time they were in New York City, he took them out to a speakeasy themed bar in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The concept was silly, you had to do a whole secret knock and password before you were led down into a basement with a smoke machine (because you couldn't smoke in bars there anymore). But the bartender made bespoke cocktails on themes like "the rapture of a female saint" and "fog in the pine wilderness" and "what a vintage 70s porno would taste like if it was a drink", and they were amazing. Also very strong. 

They staggered out of the place at last call, and Avery had tripped on the last step. Anthony caught him by the sleeve, stronger than his thin frame belied. He steadied Avery with a hand on his shoulder, and it felt like a red-hot coal, even through his thick coat. Avery pondered pretending to still need his assistance just so he could keep Anthony's hand where it was, let it sear into him like a brand.

"All right, angel?" He asked. His voice was soft, tender in a way that made Avery want to shiver.

 _Keep your hand on me and I will be_ , he wanted to say. But what came out was "Thank you for catching me."

Anthony shrugged. "It was nothing, but you're welcome I guess."

 _It’s never nothing where you’re concerned_.)

They drank and talked about inconsequential things like Maeve the wardrobe assistant’s upcoming maternity leave and the quality of the sandwiches at the craft tent. Avery made fun of the pained looks Anthony gave every time Adam, little Joshua’s actor, fell asleep on him between takes. He thought it was adorable, and even though Anthony obviously didn’t like it he never moved the boy away, shaking him gently to wake him up when it was time to start filming again.

They were halfway through a second bottle when the conversation lulled. 

“So,” Anthony said, looking at Avery. He wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses, it being dark and just the two of them, and Avery took the chance to admire his eyes. They were a lovely warm brown, with gold flecks that shimmered when the light hit them just right. He wanted to drown in them.

“Yes. Of course.” Avery swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I’m sure you’re aware there’s a scene in this season where we kiss.” 

“News to me,” Anthony said sarcastically. But in a gentle way that let Avery in on the joke. 

“And I wondered if you’d be willing to help me—ah, practice.” He felt like his face was flaming. Set a piece of paper next to him and it would go up—just poof. 

When he’d gotten the scripts and came across the scene, he’d had to put it down and pace around to calm his nerves. Certainly he’d kissed his co-stars before (a number of younger fans had confessed to awakenings of feeling after a pivotal moment in Gretna Green), but that was strictly professional. His hope was to figure out how to not broadcast to the entire set the depth of his feeling. Hence the practicing. So it was in service to his work, really.

Something crossed Anthony’s face, and Avery’s stomach dropped. He’d overstepped, and in one stupid sentence ruined three years of not just collegiality, but also friendship. 

“You don’t have to, of course! We’ll figure out something when it’s time to film. I’m sorry, it was a silly thing to ask, and I should have known that—”

“Angel.” Anthony’s hand was on his knee, a gentle, calming pressure. Avery’s mouth closed with an audible snap. “If it makes you feel better to practice beforehand, I’m happy to do that.” 

Avery was glad he was already sitting down, because he felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Anthony didn’t hate him for being forward, and was even willing to go along with this. How he ended up with a friend and co-star so indulgent, kind even, to his whims he didn’t know, but he was thankful for it. 

“So how do you want to do this?” Anthony asked, as a small smile played across his lips. 

“What?!” Avery squeaked.

“Just a suggestion, but in the script William approaches Erasmus, so I thought we should probably let that guide our practice.” Anthony’s smile became mischievous, and Avery wondered if it was possible to die of both embarrassment and want. 

“Now?” He managed. 

“I thought that’s what you came over here for, angel. To practice.” Anthony took another sip of wine. “I’d never want to make you uncomfortable, so if you want to do it another time, or not at all—”

“That’s not what I meant! I just need a moment.” Be cool, Avery. Be cool. 

He set his wine glass down on the coffee table. So did Anthony. Avery leaned in, curving a hand to Anthony’s cheek. Anthony covered it with his own.

Their lips met, barely a brush before they moved apart. It still felt like a punch in the chest to Avery, and he pulled back, trying not to breathe like a drowning man surfacing. 

Anthony’s eyebrows raised. “That’s _it_? C’mon angel, I’ve seen Gretna Green. You can do better than that.” 

“I thought it would be wise to proceed cautiously,” Avery sniffed. “Feel things out, as it were.” 

“If you wanted to feel things, all you had to do was ask.” Anthony leered, exaggeratedly enough Avery knew it was all in fun. He rolled his eyes, and Anthony smirked.

“Shall we try again, then? More properly this time?” Avery knew he was being goaded, but he had his professional pride. 

“Whenever you’re ready.” Anthony leaned against the couch, waiting for Avery to make his move. 

Both of Avery’s hands drew Anthony’s head towards him. He could feel the heat radiating off the other man’s body, and he wanted to pull it to his, be as close as they could. He covered Anthony’s mouth with his own, lips parted just a little. 

Anthony made a wounded noise, clutching at Avery’s shirt. He claimed Avery's mouth, his tongue plundering its depths. Avery wound his arms around Anthony’s waist, bringing their torsos together. Anthony pressed his lips against Avery's pulse, and he wondered if he could feel his heart thumping through it. This was better than he ever could have imagined, and he’d done it a great deal, in very graphic detail.

Anthony pressed him against the armrest, the curve of it digging into his back. He tangled fingers of one hand into Avery's hair, using it to pull them flush. It didn't hurt, but Avery moaned at the delicious sensation and wiggled with pleasure against the other man as they continued to kiss.

After what seemed like an eternity, they broke apart, chests heaving like they’d run a marathon. Anthony looked gobsmacked, a dazed expression on his face as he looked back at Avery. His lips were kiss swollen, shiny with spit, and he darted his tongue out like he could still taste the other man on them. 

“As I recall,” Avery said slowly, trying to calm his racing mind, “Erasmus freezes up at the kiss in the script.” He was rather disappointed by that when he read it, not just because he would have liked to feel Anthony kiss back, but as someone invested in the relationship between William and Erasmus. His own feelings about his co-star aside, he thought it could be the beginning of something new and wonderful for their characters, who had formed a bond of not just friendship, but also affection.

“So he does.” Anthony’s voice was trying for blasé, but there was something beneath it. He was a fantastic actor, but even he wasn’t good enough to fake that much passion. And why would he, if he was just indulging Avery’s desire to practice? 

Oh. _Oh._

“You weren’t acting,” Avery said, painfully obviously. "You… you have feelings for me?"

"Yeah, angel, I do." The other man's voice was rough. "And I understand if you want to keep it professional from now on. You just wanted to practice for work, and I got carried away. I fucked up the best friendship I've had in years because I couldn't control myself. What else is new?"

Anthony turned away from him, angrily wiping his hand across his eyes. Avery's heart shattered like it had been dropped. 

"Oh no, Anthony, my darling. Look at me, please?" He turned back around, his eyes still glimmering with tears. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. The practice was mostly a pretense. I thought it was the only way I'd ever get a chance to kiss you without the entire set watching us, and so I contrived this scenario."

“You like me?” Anthony said, like he was trying to process he’d heard correctly.

“I do. As a friend and more.” There was a strange lightness in Avery’s chest, like a weight he’d been carrying had disappeared.

Anthony’s smile was like the sunrise: slowly creeping, and somehow still brilliant even though you were expecting it. And then it went away, like a blackout curtain across a window.

“My dear, what’s wrong?” Avery wanted to gather Anthony in his arms, hold him tight, but he didn’t know how the other man would react to it.

“‘M broken,” Anthony said quietly. “I’m a fuck-up. Everything I try to do ends up horrible or messed up. You don’t want to be with someone like that.”

At this Avery swept Anthony into his arms, drawing the other man to his chest. He pressed soft, tender kisses into his beautiful, Titian hair, rubbing a hand soothingly in circles on his back. 

“My darling Anthony, you are not broken,” he said emphatically. “You’ve had difficulties in the past, but that’s where they are—the past. You’re better now, and if things were to get bad again, I would take care of you, because that’s what friends do.”

Anthony sniffled and drew back up. “You mean that?”

“With all my heart,” Avery reassured him.

“I’m so lucky,” Anthony said, his eyes filling with tears again. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Absolute nonsense.” Avery gently took Anthony’s face in his hands and kissed his forehead. The other man closed his eyes at it, like a benediction. Avery got off the couch, going to his knees. “Let me show you what you deserve, my dear. Let me take care of you.”

“Okay.” The other man’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Anthony was spread out like a feast in front of Avery, and he intended to enjoy every last bite.

Avery reached for the button of Anthony’s jeans, undoing it. He pulled down the zipper, feeling the other man’s arousal brush against his fingers. He reached into the other man’s pants, teasing his erection through his underwear.

“Aah! Naughty angel!” Anthony’s hips jerked towards the touch.

Avery smirked. “I’ve only just started, darling.”

He tugged at the waist of the other man’s jeans and underwear, urging his hips up. He pulled Anthony’s pants down his thighs just enough to free his prick, which sprang free from his clothing. It was a lovely member, already hard and leaking with want. Avery’s mouth watered at the sight, and it was all he could do to not just take it then and there.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, mouthing at the tip. The other man groaned obscenely, already worked up. Avery licked a stripe from bottom to top, enjoying the hiss of pleasure he heard from above him. 

“I am going to savor you, my dear, enjoy you like a fine dessert,” he breathed against the other man’s length before taking him into his mouth. Anthony wasn’t enormous, but he wasn’t small either, a perfectly average but pleasing size, Avery thought as he worked his lips and tongue over the other man’s dick. 

It had been a while since drama school, which was the last time he’d really had the opportunity to do this, and he was worried he was out of practice. But apparently it was like riding a bicycle, as it were. He became more confident and assured as Anthony moaned, noises that might have been the endearment he so loved to hear from the other man’s mouth. 

Anthony threaded fingers of one of his hands into Avery’s hair. Not pulling, but just resting them against the back of his head. It was a sweet gesture, one that made Avery’s heart want to spill over with tenderness. He made a noise in the back of his throat, and evidently that did something for the other man because he thrust his hips forward a little, pushing his member deeper into Avery’s mouth. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to get carried away, you just felt so good.” 

Avery pulled off of him to answer, looking up. Anthony reclined above him, flushed with lust and want. It was beautiful, and Avery thrilled a little to know he was the cause.

“You’re gorgeous, my darling. I want to feel you shake apart, climax down my throat.” 

Anthony made a half-broken noise. “Please, angel. I want you to, more than anything.” 

Avery placed a kiss at the very tip of his length. “I said I would take care of you, and I keep my word.” He swallowed the other man back down, working his mouth and tongue over him with more intensity. Anthony’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, like he was barely able to keep it together under Avery’s attentions. 

He reached up to grab the other man’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. _Come for me_ , he tried to communicate with his touch. _Flood me with your release_. 

“Oh, angel, I’m gonna—” Anthony was able to choke out before he orgasmed with a cry, spilling his seed into Avery’s mouth. He swallowed down as much as he could, but it still dribbled out the sides of his mouth, wetting his chin. 

After what seemed like forever, Anthony heaved a sigh and gently pushed at Avery’s shoulder. He pulled off, wiping his mouth and face off with the back of his hand. 

Avery sat back down on the couch, and Anthony rearranged himself to lay his head in Avery’s lap. He started to stroke the other man’s hair, and Anthony melted even more into the couch. 

“Do you feel taken care of, my dearest?” Avery inquired. 

“Very much so,” Anthony mumbled. “Thank you, angel.” 

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Avery smiled, pleased he was able to satisfy. 

“Angel?” Anthony looked up at him.

“Hm?” 

“Can we just stay like this, for a little bit?” Anthony blinked his eyes and smiled unguardedly, making Avery feel incredibly warm-hearted. 

He continued stroking Anthony’s hair. “Of course, my dear. Whatever you want.” 


End file.
